Nor,
Are your thoughts
About me
As private
As you might
Think.
I find it
Hilarious
That you waste
Time
Thinking
About me
When I am
Hardly
In any aspect
Of your life…
You smile
Your fake smiles
When you
Accidentally
Run into me.
Really?
Seriously?
You don't think
That your judgments
Of my life choices
Aren't written
All over
Your face
Your body language
Your tone of voice?
She's a leech.
Isn't it “sad?”
She thinks
She deserves
Better, but
How could she?
When she
Won't work
For it?
She's egotistical.
Narcissist.
Every little
Nit picking
Judgment
Of me…
Speaks more
About you
Than
Me.
You have
Some construct
In your head
About who
I am.
Only those
Who actually
Spend time
With me
Now
Today
Currently
Have any idea,
And the sad
Thing
Is that only
The ones
Who care,
Will read this.
You've already
Written off
My poetry
As drivel.
When I draw down,
There is no question.
When I show up
For a stranger
Who needs it,
There is no question.
When I write poetry,
& a stranger tells me
It keeps her
From committing suicide,
Or a teenager from
Cutting her wrists,
There is no question.
When I do art,
& a woman
Holds her breath
In a gasp,
Hands to heart
& asks how much,
There is no question...
That what I am doing,
No matter what
“The Community's”
“The Committee's”
“The Gossiper's”
opinion's of me are,
There is no question
If what I am doing,
No matter what
It “looks like”
To others,
Is right
For me.
It is my life
My choices
My consequences
And I am NOT
A victim
Even if you
See me as
Being ignorant
Of how my choices
Have lead me here…
You see homelessness
You see bad circumstances
…
I see that
Everything in my life
Is a treasured gift.
I see the synchronicity
Even in what
“Appears” as “bad”
To you
Is a communication
From the Divine
To me…
Helping to be
Where I am
Needed in each
Next moment.
A Kind woman
Said that you
Should tell me
These things
Yourself.
